Cambridge and a Clotpole
by Wonderlands-Suitehearts
Summary: After getting accepted into Cambridge university, Merlin is prepared for an entirely different like than the one he's used to in Ealdor. He is not prepared to be sharing a tutor with the arrogant, prattish, (and slightly wonderful) Prince Arthur. Involving lots of free fudge samples, pancakes and ice cream. And maybe some magic.


Surprisingly, it was warm for the time of year, and Merlin found himself shrugging off the thick coat his mum had insisted on him taking, bundling it into his backpack as the train drove away behind him. As the screeching of wheels faded into the distance, the excitable chatter of those on the station seemed to grow louder, and he glanced around to see that the majority of the people seemed to be his own age, and were carrying small suitcases and overnight bags. All around, he could hear snatches of conversations about Kings', Jesus and Trinity, English, Law and Physics, acceptance and…rejection. For the first time since the email, Merlin felt a knot of anxiety form in the bottom of his stomach, and he bit his lip nervously, unsure of himself in amongst the crowd. There were a few people looking worried, clutching files or books in one hand and holding a bag with the other, trying to struggle through the throng alone, but it was mainly groups of friends confidently discussing anticipated parties or how far apart their potential colleges were. Families were dotted here and there, clustered around eighteen year olds and giving them words of advice and reassurance and Merlin allowed himself a brief second to wish his mother hadn't been working, before grabbing his suitcase and dragging it behind him along the platform.

Sighing in relief as he emerged into the fresh air, he found a smile fighting to worm its way onto his face as the reality of his situation became clear. Of 929 applicants, he'd been in the 400 selected to continue to the interview process, and now there was just the interview itself to get over and done with. Terrified though he was for it, the joy he felt at being in that final 400 could not be quashed, and he knew that whatever happened today, he would have achieved something. So, with a grin lifting his cheeks, he continued down the road, suitcase bumping along behind him. Passing a few non-descript sort of roads; he followed the trail of interviewees until he came to a sort of crossroads with two different paths to take. Fishing the map he'd picked up on the train out of his back pocket, he unfolded it and squinted at it until he saw 'Hills Road' on the route he'd drawn onto it. He took the right fork and kept walking, passing a French and an Indian and several sets of traffic lights before he drew up to an old church. Bricks coloured a dark, greyish brown, it stood out dramatically from the rest of the comparatively modern street, and Merlin thought the carving of the saint between the two oak doors was wonderfully realistic. Suddenly there was a rough collision with his shoulder and he stumbled sideways, mumbling out a 'sorry' as two men in football shirts pushed past him, chuckling as he nearly toppled onto the pavement. A blush spread to the tips of his ears as he realised he'd been standing still in the middle of the street, gazing at the church. Light footsteps behind him indicated that someone was approaching, and he turned back to see a boy jogging up to him, a navy holdall slung across his back.

"Hey, are you alright?" he asked concernedly, putting a hand on Merlin's shoulder.

"I-yeah I'm fine, thanks." he replied, a little confused, ears growing pinker.

"I saw those guys up there push past you." The boy explained, flicking his hair out of chocolate eyes which seemed older than the rest of his face. "Just ignore them; you get people like that everywhere."

Nodding mutely, Merlin was embarrassed and disappointed to realise that he couldn't find his voice, and hoped the sudden bout of shyness would have completely worn off by his interview later.

"I'm Lance." Upon seeing that Merlin wasn't going to offer anything more, the man held out the hand that had been on his shoulder, smiling encouragingly at him.

"Merlin." He replied, when he was able to unstick his throat. He transferred his map back into his pocket, before grasping Lance's hand with his own and shaking it.

"So," said Lance, seeming to take the handshake as an acceptance of friendship, "Where are you staying?"

Forehead creasing in confusion, Merlin managed to stutter "How did you know I was-"

"Your bag?" Lance interrupted, eyebrows raised. "I'm guessing you're here for the interviews."

"Uh, yeah. You too?"

"Biology." Nodded Lance, before turning to Merlin. "You?"

"History." He mumbled, inexplicably unsure of himself, as usually he boasted of his choice of course. Then again, usually he was surrounded by villagers from Ealdor who were lucky to get three A-levels, rather than potential Cambridge students studying Science.

"Where's your interview?"

"Corpus Christi. It's down the next street. I think."

Nodding, he replied "Mine's at Kings'. I'm staying at the Camelot. It's a pub on Guildhall-"

"Oh, I know the Camelot." Interrupted Merlin excitedly, earning a chuckle from Lance. "I'm staying there too."

"Excellent." He replied, clapping Merlin on the back. "Well, I don't know about you, but I could certainly use a drink before my interview, so I say we head there as soon as possible."

Despite the fact that Merlin wanted to laugh at how much Lance seemed like an actual Cambridge scholar, he was glad that he seemed to have found a friend in the city so quickly, so followed him cheerfully as they headed towards the pub.

A wooden board announced that Corpus Christi College was 'Closed to visitors' for the duration of the interviews, but a rectangle of grass and part of a wall was visible through the half-closed doors. As he gazed longingly at it, Merlin found himself drifting off into the familiar fantasy of being able to call this wonderful place his home; walking around (on) the pristine, striped lawns, looking through an old window into a courtyard with a-

"Merlin!" The sound of his name snapped him out of his thoughts, and he looked around to find Lance standing a few steps ahead watching him with an amused expression written across his face. "Do you usually space out like this?"

"Oh. Um, yeah, sorry." He replied sheepishly, ears turning red again. "My mum's always telling me off 'cause I never hear her when she tells me to do something."

For a second, Merlin thought he saw a flash of hurt in Lance's eyes, but it must have been his imagination or a trick of the light, as when he blinked, there was nothing but the calm serenity he'd shown throughout their encounter.

Shaking his head softly, he beckoned for Merlin to follow as he continued down the road, turning right just before they reached the beginning of King's Parade.

* * *

Half an hour later, both Merlin and Lance's suitcases were in their respective rooms, Lance now in his interview clothes, and they were sitting at the bar chatting amicably as if they had been friends for years.

"How long have you been interested in history then?" asked Lance, taking a small sip of his J2O (he didn't want to drink before the interview).

"Always, really. I've been interested in myths and legends since I could read, and me and my friend Will used to pretend to be knights a lot when we got bored."

The corners of Lance's eyes crinkled up in a smile at this, and he nodded "Every little boy's dream seems to be being a knight."

"No, I usually argued with him until he let me be a wizard or a dragon." Laughed Merlin, a voice in the back of his head telling him that he shouldn't have said that word, even as a joke. "What was your dream then?"

"I didn't really have one until I was 11. My village was hit by a disease which wiped out nearly everyone. I was on holiday at my grandma's at the time, so I didn't catch it, but they were quarantined and two-thirds of the people trapped inside caught the illness. Both my parents died. And I decided then that I wanted to help develop cures for disease, so I've been studying science, especially biology, all the way through high school and college. I got 100% in my Biology GCSE."

Merlin's eyes widened comically. "100%? No way."

Lance nodded, shooting a sad little smile at Merlin.

"Hey, I'm sorry about your parents though. If it makes you feel any better, I never even knew my dad." said Merlin, placing a hand on the other man's arm.

Lance looked at him in silent thanks, before glancing at the clock hanging above the bar and reluctantly sliding off his seat. "I've got to get going. I'll see you afterwards, okay?"

Without waiting for a reply, he headed for the door and Merlin watched as he pushed it open and disappeared through it, before sighing and laying his head on the table. He had two hours to kill and no-one to stop him from worrying.

* * *

An hour and a half later, he entered a small, relatively modern shop with a green front called the Fudge Kitchen. For the seventh time. The past ninety minutes had gone surprisingly quickly, even without Lance beside him, and Merlin thought that might be due to the three demonstrations he'd watched, and the resulting free fudge samples. Kings' college seemed suddenly appealing, and he was jealous of Lance for his proximity to this little shop of heaven, which constantly smelled of melted chocolate, and produced fudge better than any he had ever tasted. And Merlin usually didn't even like fudge. If he actually got accepted, Merlin thought as he chewed his second sample of white chocolate fudge, he was going to get seriously fat with all these free samples of fudge so tantalisingly close to his doorstep. Unless, a horrible thought had just entered his head, they recognised him, and eventually banned him from the shop for not buying anything. Then again, he wasn't the only one who had been darting in and out of the shop every five minutes; a girl who seemed about his age had been in the shop possibly more times than him, as she was there when he arrived and was still hanging around now.

"Hey." He chanced an introduction as they both reached for a salted caramel taster. "I'm Merlin."

"Merlin." She smiled, before popping the fudge in her mouth and chewing on it thoughtfully. "I'd been wondering the name of the person who's been stalking me in and out of this shop for the last hour."

He frowned at her, unable to say anything until he swallowed the fudge and replied "I'm not stalking you. If you must know, I'm a professional fudge investigator, and I'm legally obliged to taste every sample here."

Giggling, she slipped her small hand into his, and pulled him from the shop, walking out into the street, and down the road, towards a church surrounded by a crowd of people. "I'm Gwen. Unfortunately not a professional fudge investigator, but here for the interviews, like you are, I'm guessing."

"How did you know?" asked Merlin, smiling down at her; she barely reached his shoulders, even with the volume of her messy curls.

"I'd imagine if you lived here the novelty of free fudge would wear off."

"How could free fudge possibly wear off?" asked Merlin incredulously, causing her to giggle again.

"I'm as flummoxed as you are," she replied, "But if it didn't get boring after a while, then the shop would be full all the time, and I doubt they'd do free samples if the entire student body came here every day."

"You're actually pretty smart." Said Merlin, impressed, and she pushed him lightly.

"This _is_ Cambridge university."

"I suppose it is, isn't it?" he replied, more to himself than anything else, yet when he looked down at her he found she was wearing a grin identical to his own

"What are you taking then?" she questioned, but before he'd opened her mouth she interrupted. "No wait, let me guess."

Her eyes ran up and down him, narrowing in concentration, and Merlin shifted uncomfortably as she quietly appraised him.

"Well, you're kind of gangly, so I want-"

"Hey!" he glared at her, folding his arms over his chest in a poor impersonation of annoyance.

"-So I want to say you're a physics nerd," she continued, only giving a mischievous smile to show that she'd heard him, "But you don't really act very nerdy."

"I suppose that's a compliment, is it?" he raised an eyebrow, and she grinned again.

"I don't want to say law, 'cause that seems too boring for you. Um, I'm going to guess history?"

"No way!" he exclaimed, forgetting his mask of irritation for a moment. "How'd you do that?"

"Educated guess." She smiled. "You could probably work out what I'm applying for."

Mind running over the courses he knew about for a moment before deciding on one, Merlin hazarded a guess. "English?"

She nodded, curls bouncing with the motion. "What time's your interview?"

"I've already had it." He lied, wanting to test her and see if she really was as smart as she seemed.

"No you haven't." She responded instantly, continuing before he had a chance to speak. "You kept checking your watch."

Shaking his head in disbelief, he answered her previous question. "I have to be there in 15 minutes."

"What college is it?"

"Can't you work that out, Sherlock?" he teased, grinning at her as she took his hand again and began walking down the street, surprisingly in the right direction.

"I'm not psychic, you know."

"Corpus Christi. What time's yours?"

"Half an hour at Jesus."

"Jesus, you better get going then, that's right across town." He responded, letting her hand fall from his. "No pun intended."

"Sure." She grinned, rolling her eyes. "Give me your mobile first though."

Reaching for it in the pocket of his rather worn jeans, he handed it to her, and waited rather impatiently for her to give it back. Once it was in his hand again, he quickly flicked through his contacts to find 'Gwen Smith' listed before 'Home', and he tucked it back into his pocket before holding out a hand for her to shake. To his surprise, she ignored his outstretched arm, and pulled him in for a hug, kissing him lightly on the cheek as she pulled away and walked in the opposite direction, back towards the church.

* * *

"Emrys, Merlin." Called a voice, and he walked past a girl with long black hair as she gestured into a rather cramped office in which an old man sat behind a desk.

Mainly to avoid looking at the man sat before him, Merlin looked around the office. Bookshelves stretched from floor to ceiling on every wall, minus where the door was, and every one of them was so packed full of books and folders and sheets of loose paper that Merlin wondered how the man ever found anything in there. Piled waist-height on the floor were hundreds of sheets of lined paper, with a distinctly female handwriting across the top-most sheets, and perched dangerously on the stack of essays was a skull, a dagger and what looked like some sort of plant. The desk in the centre of the room was made from aged wood, and Merlin thought it was a miracle that it hadn't collapsed under the weight of the thick leather-bound volumes that were stacked on it. At the very front of the desk was a brass plaque, also antique, which read 'Prof. Gaius, Dept. of History', and as Merlin was reading this, the person whose name it bore coughed loudly, and he looked up, steeling himself.

"So, Mr Emrys," Professor Gaius began, "Why do you want to study history?"

* * *

All in all, it went better than Merlin could've possibly hoped. Having never been particularly good at speaking under pressure, the fact that Professor Gaius, of _Cambridge _University, said that he liked him and expected great things was cause enough for him to want to skip through the corridors and down the streets back to The Camelot. However, he managed to restrain himself from both skipping and calling Gwen as soon as he left the college, as he knew she would be in her interview now, or at least waiting for it, and he didn't want to ruin her chances by a mistimed phone call. Instead, he practically ran back to the pub, dying to tell Lance about his interview, and rather looking forward to a hot cup of tea after the stress of the day. When he reached the bar, he found Lance hunched over a beer, knuckles white with the force he was exerting on his glass.

"Lance?" he asked tentatively, and the other man whirled so fast Merlin felt sure he was going to knock his drink over.

"Merlin!" greeted Lance, far more jovially that Merlin had expected. "How did it go?"

"Alright, I think. What about yours?"

"I think it was okay. God, there were so many posh people there though. I mean, I expected there to be, and I know Kings' especially is mainly public school, but it was an open application and they wanted to interview me. But all I've got is my brains and they'll all have money and connections too and what if my brains aren't enough, I just-"

"Lance." Said Merlin firmly, cutting off his increasingly panicked babbling. "Relax. You got 100% in your biology GCSE. If anyone's got the brains to do this, it's you."

Nodding slowly, he seemed to calm down, hands loosening on his pint, and eyes becoming less worried. "Yeah, I guess. It was just a bit of a shock. Thanks Merlin. No point worrying about it now though, right?"

"Right." Merlin smiled, turning away the barmaid who came to offer him a drink.

"You don't want a drink?" Lance raised his eyebrows, a little surprised.

"Not here. Come on, there's a creperie on the end of King's Parade, I want some lunch." Merlin pulled at his arm, forcing him to abandon the almost empty glass on the bar, and the barmaid that had been smiling at him with unnaturally red lips.

"What were you doing on King's Parade?" he asked, turning to the other boy in confusion.

"just wandering. I found a really nice fudge shop. Which reminds me, when we reach the café, tell me to text Gwen." As he spoke, Merlin felt his hand drifting subconsciously to his pocket to check his phone was still there, as he did obsessively six or seven times a day, even in the tiny village of Ealdor.

"Who's Gwen?" curiosity coloured Lance's tone now, and Merlin shot him a sideways smile.

"A friend. You'll like her. At least, I think you will."

"Friend?" repeated Lance doubtfully, the implication in his tone obvious.

"Yeah, I met her this morning." He replied honestly as they walked up the street.

"You met her this morning and you already have her number?" Lance's eyes widened in shock, "You don't half move fast, do you?"

Laughing, Merlin replied "Oh no, we're definitely just friends. We talked for five minutes and she gave me her number, that's all."

"If she's given you her number after five minutes, I think you've got a chance Merlin." Said Lance, something approaching admiration in his voice, which didn't make sense because surely handsome, confident Lance would have no trouble getting girls' phone numbers.

Still hulking, Merlin shook his head. "I don't _want _a chance. And I think she's just friendly."

"Well if you don't like her, why do you think I will?" pressed Lance, now much more venturing and curious than he seemed when the first met.

"I've told you, I like her as a _friend. _And I don't know why you'd like her, aside from the fact that she's really cool. It just seems like you two will like each other."

At these words, Lance looked at Merlin in confusion, and Merlin blushed, internally cursing himself at how open he was with his friends. Despite all that he'd said about Gwen being psychic or a genius, Merlin himself had always had a fairly good measure on other people. It was hard to explain, but he always seemed to get a flavour of the person, and automatically knew whether two people were compatible or whether they'd dislike one another. Unfortunately, this theory had never applied to Merlin's own relationships, which usually ended badly. For Merlin, at least.

"Hello?" A hand was waving in front of his face, and Merlin suddenly became aware of Lance, who was watching him with some concern. "You spaced out again."

"Oh, right. Sorry." He mumbled, attempting a smile whilst looking around. "We're here?"

"Yes. You didn't notice?" asked Lance, now seeming even more worried for his friend's mental well-being.

Apparently Merlin's feet required no link whatsoever with his brain, as they had walked him the length of King's Parade without his noticing, and he realised with some disappointment that they'd passed the fudge shop. However, a wonderful smell was wafting out of the café on the corner, and Merlin followed the scent inside eagerly, Lance trailing after.

As they joined the queue, Merlin felt a light tap on his elbow, and Lance spoke quietly. "You need to text Gwen."

Eyes lighting up as he remembered, he dug his phone out of his pocket and quickly unlocked it, before clicking on the contact she'd created and typing out a brief message.

**To: Gwen Smith 14:57**

Creperie on the corner of King's Parade? (Professional Fudge Inspector)

A moment later his phone buzzed and he read the reply with a grin.

**From: Gwen Smith 14:58**

Hot choc & lemon&sugar. Ur paying. At fudge shop, there in 5 (Sherlock)

Stepping forward to the front of the queue, he relayed his order to a cheerful boy who couldn't have been more than 17. "Two hot chocolates, one with cream, one lemon and sugar pancake and one nutella with caramel sauce please. Lance?"

The other man shook his head as Merlin handed over the money, saying "I ate at The Camelot."

Once Merlin had paid, they took seats by a window, and simultaneously a bell tinkled as the door opened to reveal a pretty girl with dark hair, who Merlin waved at.

"Lance, this is Gwen. Gwen, Lance." Merlin gestured as Lance pulled up a chair for the newcomer.

Before they had even greeted each other though, Merlin asked eagerly "So how was it?"

Rolling her eyes as she shrugged off her jacket, she replied "Better than I thought. You?"

Merlin nodded his agreement, before they both turned to Lance, Gwen asking politely "And how was yours?"

Seeming surprised at being so quickly included, or maybe just stunned by how pretty he found the girl, and stuttered an 'okay', before falling silent again, causing Merlin's smirk to grow.

Luckily, Lance was saved from the necessity of saying anything more by the arrival of the food, and a tray baring two full mugs and warm plates was placed before them. Simultaneously, his two friends reached over the table towards their respective pancakes, grabbing them before looking at the hot chocolates and each other.

"Which is mine?"

"No cream," Merlin replied confidently as he took his own cream-topped mug and sipped from it, giving himself a white moustache that caused Gwen to laugh before he wiped it off.

"Good guess." She nodded, taking a bite from her pancake and smiling contentedly.

Merlin put his drink down and did the same, sweetness filling his mouth in the form of the rich caramel sauce drizzled over it. A frown appeared on his features however, when he looked down and saw nutella dripped on the crisp ivory of his interview shirt, and he reflected that he probably should have changed before coming here. Bursting into laughter at the site, Gwen fished around in her handbag for a moment, before drawing out a BlackBerry and snapping a photo of Merlin's pout and the chocolate on his shirt. Glaring at her, he wondered fruitlessly how her own blouse was still pristine, and in his head decided that while Gwen was almost certainly not like him, she was her own kind of magic anyway.


End file.
